The phone rings. It’s your mom.

She says three words and immediately you feel trapped, beset, and some how wrong. What ever you say is wrong. Mom asks about your job. You start to answer, per haps speaking quickly, because you know that if you leave a gap, your mom will offer you advice. You’re not fast enough; she offers her advice. You try to change the subject. She offers you advice about changing the subject.

Maneuvering for a more neutral topic, you bring up your sister’s upcoming wed ding. Quickly you realize this is a mistake. There’s a pregnant pause, as your mother, too, realizes you’re both on thin ice. You know she wants to tell you what the neighbors are saying. She knows she wants to tell you, and she also knows that you will not be happy to hear it. You both hold your breath. She takes the plunge.

You notice, by now, that a throbbing head ache has started up behind one ear and is working its way behind your eyes. The force of your head ache is pushing on your brain case.

Ten minutes into this short conversation your mouth is dry and it feels as though the top of your head will explode. You eye the window wondering if you can put down the phone and quietly make a break for it with out her noticing. Mom asks why you haven’t come to visit. You sit there openmouthed, your mind a total blank. You can think of absolutely nothing to say.

Then your dad gets on the line. He wants to know why you’ve upset your mother. You could swear this was the work of a secret parent cabal who get together to manipulate the market on migraine medication and antidepressants. (Mean while, in an alternate universe, moms gather together over coffee to talk about their kids. They’d like to know what’s wrong.)

Everyone has a family of origin and almost no one knows how to cope with them. You love them; they drive you crazy. You wish holidays and phone calls didn’t always end up like your own private reality show where you never get to change the channel.

This can all be changed, with out you having to move to Nepal or swear to never see your family again. And it all starts with flooding.

Flooding occurs when an adrenaline over load over whelms parts of the brain. Have you ever been so upset you can’t think, can’t speak, can barely cope? That’s flooding. Land mark research on flooding was done by Dr. John Gottman. In their 1995 book Gottman, Silver, and other researchers worked with lab equipment that recorded and monitored changes in the body and brain when people were stressed. Gottman, a specialist in couple conflict, had many intriguing insights that can be found in his book Why Marriages Succeed or Fail. You may already know some thing about flooding from the fight-or-flight syndrome, where the more primitive parts of the brain over ride the more advanced parts. The result is knee-jerk fear or aggression and a distinct lack of level headed reason. However, with Gottman’s work we can now add many important and useful insights.

You can expect flooding to affect you both physically and mentally. Physical symptoms act like an early warning system.

Your ultimate goal is to control flooding rather than allow it to control you.

Flooding needn’t always catch you by surprise. It is a learned reaction. If you flooded the last three times you saw your step father, you will likely flood the next time you see him. Your body has learned that “stepfather” means flooding and it will start pumping adrenaline on cue, whether or not he says any thing wrong. The mere sight of him or the sound of his voice will set your head pounding and cause your thinking to malfunction.

This learned reaction certainly can work against you, but it can also be harnessed to work in your favor. Your body can be taught to unlearn flooding, just as it learned to over re act. You do not want the mere sight of your step father to send you into a mental tailspin. That gives him too much power over you. You want to avoid flooding, not because you feel warm and cheerful, but because you need your brain to be able to cope.

To unlearn flooding, try the following exercise.

1. Find a quiet room where no one will interrupt you for an hour or two. Disconnect the phone. Tell the kids to turn down the TV.
2. Sit down in a com fort able chair with a pen and paper. (Bring your note book or a sep a rate sheet of paper.)
3. Then, con jure up the sight of whomever it is who can trigger your flooding. Visualize him or her vividly.
4. While you are imagining this per son images, sounds, or smells are likely to come up for you that will particularly evoke your flooding. It may be the sound of her foot steps coming down the hall, the smirk he gets when he’s made a verbal jab, or the smell of a particular cigarette. Look for these triggering cues and write down as many of them as you can recall.
5. Then, while thinking about this per son and all the attending triggers, deliberately take yourself to a state of flooding. Feel it wash over you. Make note of your physical symptoms, like shortness of breath or sweaty palms.
6. Take note of your mental symptoms. Are your thoughts spinning in circles? Has your mind gone blank? Do you feel trapped? Hope less? Write down all of your reactions.
7. Now deliberately take your self out of flooding. Do some thing physical; for example, jog in place. Move your chair. Breathe deeply.
8. Once you’ve come back down, note your mental state. Is your mind feeling clearer? Are your thoughts steady?
9. Now, once again imagine this same upset ting per son. Once again take your self through the entire sequence. Bring yourself to the point of flooding and then bring your self out of it again.

Doing this exercise will teach your body to disconnect the triggers and leave you better able to fend off flooding.

Excerpt from Going Home without Going Crazy: How to Get Along with Your Parents and Family (Even When They Push Your Buttons), by Andra Medea.